I met a girl named Karen. She is 75 percent Chinese. I don’t know her surname just her first name as shown in her name tag. She’s a bank teller. I have been going to this particular bank for five years now and I always see her. Going to this particular bank irritates me because of the poor service. The queue is killing me. They have adopted this new computerized system of queuing that is quite unbearable for me.
But somehow, I found a way to divert my boredom and irritation by looking at Karen. She was the first person I look for whenever I enter the bank. I don’t know what it is about her but I am drawn to her. Her kindness and enthusiasm warms my heart.
Two weeks ago, I had the chance of having a more-than-a-glance encounter with her. I was making a transaction and she was the one who attended to my inquiries. My instinct was right. She’s a nice person. Maybe she’s nice to all the clients but I sense sincerity in the way she talks to me. It’s as if we’ve known each other for a long time. She asked me about my work and asked if I have vacant hours. I told her I am being paid to write down my thoughts. In between I could drink coffee and talk to the walls. She smiled. I don’t know what she was thinking but I believe I had caught her interest.
This morning, I saw her again. She was surprised to see me. I was (more than) happy to see her. I asked her if she’s fluent in Mandarin. She said “yes”.
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postscript:
"something within me is not right. i could not exactly tell what and how it started but i feel it growing worse everyday. it's like my heart is bursting every time it hurts. the pain does not compensate for anything. it heals and breaks on its own." ~ letter to coffeebeans (2-1-12)
2 comments:
i wanna know what happens next.
i guess the story continues after i visit the bank again. :) i get the feeling though that she's looking into the possibility of finding another work. she kept asking about my job, which makes me a happy. but she said, "aw, i don't know how to write."
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